by Allan Topol
He was smart to make it sound like a social invitation, Elizabeth thought. Someone’s probably monitoring her calls because they know she’s Craig’s friend.
Elizabeth watched Craig give a thumbs-up. Then he called out, “Elizabeth, we’re having a visitor. Betty will be here in the morning.”
Craig was working himself back into the CIA, Elizabeth realized. Norris’s days were numbered.
Moscow and Beijing
In Moscow, Dimitri Orlov was also sitting in front of a widescreen
television watching Wang Shi announce the selection of General Zhou as president of China.
Once he heard those words, Orlov pumped his fist in the air. “Yes,” he cried out. “Our time has come.”
To celebrate, he downed half a tumbler of vodka, picked up his cell phone, and dialed Androshka’s cell.”
“Where are you?” he asked.
“In Beijing with General Zhou.”
Orlov was pleasantly surprised. He was afraid General Zhou would ditch Androshka when his exile ended.
“Congratulations. I heard the news on television.”
“It’s a great day for General Zhou. For me. For all of us.”
“I’m ready to implement the plan we discussed in the South of France. Have you told General Zhou about me?”
After a long hesitation, Androshka replied, “Not yet.”
“What have you been waiting for?” Then he understood. “You were afraid he’d toss you aside if he thought you wanted something from him.”
“I don’t like being talked to that way,” she said raising her voice. “I’m now the first lady of China.”
He wanted to laugh and blurt out, “You mean the first whore of China,” but he didn’t dare. Androshka had pride and she could get stubborn. So he calmly said, “I’m correct. Aren’t I?”
“Yes,” she said weakly.
“But you have it all wrong.” He was speaking slowly as if he were talking to a schoolgirl. “Being the link to Kuznov and Russia will enhance your value to General Zhou. You can tell him that I am close with President Kuznov and that I have spoken with him about General Zhou. You can also tell him that I want to come to China to meet with him as the official representative of President Kuznov.”
“Is all that true?” she asked. “Have you really spoken with Kuznov? And will you be coming as his official representative?”
Orlov recognized the skepticism in her voice.
“Absolutely. We had a conversation on this subject at his home on the lake outside of Moscow. I intend to meet with him in the Kremlin this afternoon now that I’ve heard about General Zhou’s selection. I’m unhappy that you doubt the accuracy of what I told you.”
“Sorry, Dimitri. I will talk to General Zhou. I forget, he’s now President Zhou. I’ll call you with his reaction.”
“What I really want is for you to schedule a meeting for me with President Zhou.”
“I’ll do my best. I promise.”
After an intensive day of meetings with aides and decisions about transition issues as well as personnel for his new administration, President Zhou traveled to his brother’s mansion for a quiet celebratory dinner. Just the two of them.
They began with Krug 1990 champagne and Russian caviar in the marble-floored den.
“To your success,” Zhou Yun said, raising his glass.
“No. To our success,” President Zhou replied. “I could never have done it without you.”
“We are a good team. Father would have been proud of us.”
Half an hour later, they sat down at the heavily polished wooden dining room table. Waiters brought in platters with shark fin soup, steamed abalone and ginger, spicy Szechuan eggplant with tangerine beef, and seven-spice roast duck. Then they poured 1982 Lafite Rothschild. Afterwards, they departed, leaving the two brothers alone.
President Zhou raised his glass. “To Chinese world domination.”
“How do you intend to achieve that?”
“With nothing else to do in Bali, I thought about it a great deal. I have a three stage plan. First, strengthen and upgrade our military. The United States still has a qualitative edge with their Air Force and Navy, but the fools in Washington have reduced their military budget. We should be able to close that gap quickly. Five years. No more. Maybe less.”
“And after that?”
“Second stage, we move to achieve military dominance in Asia. We provoke a war with Japan over islands or oil rights under the sea. Our annihilation of the Japanese armed forces will persuade all of the other nations of Asia to accept Chinese domination. They will do our bidding economically and politically. If they refuse, we’ll change their governments.”
“What makes you think the United States will let you prevail over Japan. Washington has defense commitments to Tokyo.”
President Zhou paused to eat some of the delicious food. His brother employed one of the best chefs in all of China. He enjoyed making his brother wait for the answer to this critical question.
Finally, he said, “After Iraq and Afghanistan, the American people are sick of foreign wars. They’ll never honor their commitment to Japan.
Zhou Yun looked worried. “And if they do?”
“We’ll be ready for them. In this part of the Pacific, we’ll have a huge advantage, being so close to home.”
“What’s your third stage?”
“We challenge the Americans everywhere in the world for natural resources. We strong-arm third world countries to do business exclusively with China. We’ll dominate the oil and copper markets as well as other commodities. That will deal a fatal blow to the American economy.”
“All of that may be good years from now, but right now we have an immediate economic problem with the Americans.”
“What’s that?”
“For the last several months, President Dalton has been threatening trade sanctions, which would cripple our economy, unless we do something about human rights.”
President Zhou snarled. “That again. Why don’t they mind their own business and worry about their problems at home, which are many?”
“I don’t know. But Dalton won’t let go of it.”
“We’ve heard the same talk from every American president for as long as I can remember.”
“True. But this time Dalton sounds serious. He’s demanding tangible steps. If not, he’ll impose trade sanctions.”
“Doesn’t he understand we could dump our U.S. government bonds? And not buy new ones? That we make and supply the products which keep his country running?”
“He’s convinced that any possible economic action on our part would be too detrimental to China.”
“What do you think?”
“Dalton does have a point. I’ll have a couple of my economic experts evaluate the issue.”
His brother sipped the wine. Zhou Yun’s wrinkled forehead told President Zhou his brother was concerned about something. “What’s bothering you?”
“I’m still troubled by your attack on Japan in the second stage. The Americans could respond with a missile attack against Beijing and Shanghai from their ships in the Pacific. Unfortunately, we don’t yet have the technology to launch a long-range missile attack against the United States. If we had it, we would be in a standoff with Washington. They wouldn’t dare attack us even if we attacked Japan.”
“Well, can’t we develop that long-range missile capability?”
“One of my companies has a contract with the Ministry of Defense to develop that technology. We’re working closely with Jiang Hua, the Director of the Technical Branch of the Ministry.”
“When will you have it?”
“Unfortunately, we’re still years away.”
“Push the engineers harder?”
“Believe me, I am.”
“Do the Americans have the technology for missiles that can reach China from the United States?”
“They’re very close. We believe they’ve solved all the technical problems. They
have designed an extremely precise system. It’s just a question of constructing and implementing it.”
“Again, the Americans are ahead of us,” President Zhou said gruffly.
An hour later, dinner was over. President Zhou walked toward the front door where his aide Captain Cheng was waiting patiently.
“Have you moved into the Presidential House?” his brother asked.
“Yes. With Androshka.”
“And your old house?”
“My old wife can stay there.” President Zhou laughed. “An old house for an old wife.”
Though it was past midnight when Zhou arrived at the Presidential House, as he expected, Androshka was waiting for him. She followed him up the stairs to the sitting room, off the master bedroom, poured two glasses of Armagnac, and handed him one. “To our new life,” she said, raising her glass.
Then she pulled one of his Cuban cigars from the humidor, snipped off the end, lit it, and handed it to him.
He puffed deeply. “I remember the first time you did that with a cigar… in Paris. No woman ever had. I liked it then. I like it now.”
“My aim is to please you.”
“I’m glad you came to Beijing with me.”
“Thank you for bringing me. I think I can be valuable to you.”
“You’re always valuable in bed.” He gave a short laugh.
She was blushing. “There is something else. I received a call from my brother, Dimitri, in Moscow this evening.”
He thought she seemed nervous. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”
“He was working for another oligarch. A rival of Mikail Ivanoff, the man whose murder you arranged in Morocco. Before that, Dimitri was a high ranking KGB official. Very close with Boris Kuznov, who was then with the KGB.”
She raised her hand and pressed the first two fingers together.
“What did your brother say?”
“He wants to come to Beijing and meet with you as an official representative of President Kuznov.”
President Zhou recalled his conversation with Zhou Yun that evening. He was intrigued by what she was telling him. An alliance with Moscow could greatly strengthen his hand in dealing with the United States. Since Russia had one foot in Europe, a bellicose regime in Moscow, working with Beijing would force the United States to divert part of its military forces and attention from Asia to Europe in defense of its allies there whose own military resources were meager at best. With reduced forces in Asia, this would minimize the likelihood that the United States would defend Japan in the event of a Chinese attack.
All of that was true, but President Zhou couldn’t seem too eager to get into bed with the Russians. He had learned long ago, in dealing with Moscow, you have to make them believe they need you more than you need them.
“Call Dimitri back,” Zhou said. “Tell him to come to Beijing in one month. I’ll see him then.”
He could tell she was pleased.
“So I am valuable to you in other ways,” she said.
He stood up and began undressing. “Now show me how valuable you really are.”
In bed, she massaged his back using lotion. “Your muscles are so tight. Lots of tension.”
He wasn’t surprised. He’d had a tough day. Being president was stressful. So much he wanted to do, and quickly. He was concerned about Dalton and Japan. While she stroked the backs of his legs, he was thinking about long-range missile and economic sanctions.
She reached in between his legs and played with his balls, grabbing his cock from the back. That always got him hard, but tonight nothing was happening.
“Time to flip over,” she said.
After he did, she went to work on him with her mouth. But he remained limp. He wanted sex with her in the worst way. She was trying everything. All of her tricks with her tongue. But nothing happened.
Finally, she said, “I’ll bet you had a lot wine at dinner. That often causes this problem.”
She sounded understanding and sympathetic. He appreciated that even though it had never happened to him before. Maybe it was the tension of the Presidency. He had read that Mao had this problem as well.
She put her head on the pillow next to his. “I’ll hold you in my arms. We’ll fall asleep that way.”
This shouldn’t happen. He was a strong virile man.
He hoped it was a one-time thing. That it would never happen again. And if it did, what good was Androshka to him? And what was the point of keeping her?
Paris and Moscow
Craig and Elizabeth were in Craig’s office, waiting for Betty to arrive. He glanced out of the window.
A cab pulled up and Betty got out. She wheeled a suitcase toward the building and stopped by a bench. As he expected, she sat down and lit up a cigarette.
“You see her?” Elizabeth asked.
“She’ll be here in two cigarettes,” he said with a smile.
When Betty walked in fifteen minutes later, after freshening up in the lavatory, she kissed both of them on each cheek.
“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do over here?”
“Not necessary,” Craig said. “We’re still Americans.”
“Can you get me a cup of good, strong coffee?”
Craig hit the buzzer. Waiting for the coffee, Betty said, “I’m too old for overnight flights. I didn’t do it for you, Craig. I did it for Elizabeth.”
Craig smiled, “You did it because you know why we wanted to see you.”
“General Zhou—sorry, President Zhou.”
“For sure.”
“You know what this reminds me of?” Betty said.
“I can’t imagine.”
“When your daughter Francesca was a little girl, I took her to the movies. Sometimes in those days they showed cartoons at children’s matinees.”
“I remember,” Craig said.
“I don’t,” Elizabeth said.
“I didn’t expect you to. Craig’s a lot older than you are.”
“Ouch. That stung,” he said.
They all laughed.
“Well, anyhow,” Betty continued, “Francesca’s favorite cartoon was one in which a cat was trying to capture a mouse, but the mouse always managed to escape.”
“Zhou’s only gotten away from me twice,” Craig protested. “Three will be the charm.”
“I hope so.”
Coffee arrived. Three double espressos. Betty took a gulp, then put the cup down. “Let’s talk,” Betty said.
“You know,” Craig responded, “the world has become a much more dangerous place with Zhou as president of China. And you can be sure he’ll be gunning for the United States.”
“You’re preaching to the choir.”
“The U.S. will have to increase its vigilance vis-à-vis China. And President Dalton should stop baiting Beijing with threats to impose trade sanctions. They would be counterproductive. Even if Congress went along.”
“You want to come to Washington and deliver your message to Dalton and Norris?”
“They’d never see me.”
“Fact is,” she said sadly, “neither of them has the competency to deal with challenges like this.”
“That’s what I figured. But I want to know if you can make an end run around Norris. Deal with people on the China desk in Langley. At DIA and NIA. Then shoot me any information you obtain about Chinese plans or troop movements. I could try to get England,
France, and Germany to lean on Dalton for action. Or even take action themselves. What do you think?”
She pondered his request for a minute.
“Let’s do it,” she said. “I’ll have stuff e-mailed to you from a location outside of the Agency. Less chance of detection.”
“What about the risk to you?” Elizabeth said. “The information could be classified.”
Betty shrugged. “The most they’ll do is fire me. They’ll never be able to cut off my pension. I’ll take my chances. Nothing is more important now than blocking whatever scheme Zhou next hatches.”<
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With a swagger, Orlov entered the Kremlin. He walked into the office of the secretary to the Secretary, who immediately passed him through to the Secretary to President Kuznov. There, he waited only thirty seconds before the Secretary led him into the inner sanctum of Kuznov’s huge office.
The Russian president was alone. He was studying a document on his red leather topped antique desk and frowning.
“I have good news,” Orlov said.
“I need good news. Everywhere in this great country, the Muslims are making trouble. What’s wrong with those people?”
Orlov took a seat in front of the desk. “We should have killed all of them in Chechnya.”
“I agree. And elsewhere. I assume you came to see me about your sister’s friend, Zhou, the new president of China.”
“Precisely. She called a couple of hours ago to say that General Zhou will meet with me in one month in Beijing.”
Kuznov looked irritated. “Why not now? Why in a month? Gamesmanship?”
“She said he wants to get his government solidified. She told him I’ll be coming as your official representative. She’s confident he’ll agree to work with us.”
Kuznov perked up. “If that’s really true, it would be a good development. An alliance with China would help us do battle with the United States and also assist a Russian resurgence.”
“I’ll do my best to develop that alliance.”
Kuznov got up and walked over to the window. He was staring out. Orlov saw wet snowflakes falling. Doesn’t winter ever end in Moscow? Orlov could tell Kuznov was deep in thought. He didn’t interrupt the president.
Finally, Kuznov wheeled around and said, “Since you last spoke to me, I had our intelligence people do some research on Zhou. He’s smart and cunning. He’ll realize that an alliance with China is important for me. He may impose some conditions for a meeting. Do you know what I mean?”
Orlov nodded.
“Listen carefully to what Zhou says to you,” Kuznov continued. “Tell him that you have to report back to me. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir. I do.”
